


You're On In Five!

by SquaryQ



Series: They Exchanged A Smile - A MultiFandom Collection on Anxiety [6]
Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: Angelic Angel, Comfort, Comfort & Reassurance, F/F, Insecurity, Love Live! School Idol Movie, Meltdown, Minor panic, Panic, performance anxiety, stage fright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 22:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17712827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquaryQ/pseuds/SquaryQ
Summary: Even as a seasoned performer, anxieties can eat you alive. Umi Sonoda knew that VERY well.





	You're On In Five!

Even as a seasoned performer, anxieties can eat you alive. Umi Sonoda knew that _very_ well.

For twenty minutes, now, she had been sat in the corner of the dressing room staring at the ceiling, counting how many tiles there were, attempting to maintain a regular rhythmic breathing while Nico braided her long navy coloured hair into the style for their performance.

She was trying to reassure herself for the umpteenth time that there was no way in hell she was going to fumble the steps that she and Eli had choreographed. Sure, the dance they’d planned out was intricate, but this was their biggest performance, ever. And would, most likely, be the biggest one they’d ever do.

The girls were wearing shortened and flared dresses that were silky in texture and resembled kimonos, frilled out with a large volume of taffeta. Each individual dress was colour co-ordinated and designed with the girls in mind, and was, arguably Kotori’s best work.

Umi wanted to think so, anyways. After all, she knew how long her girlfriend had agonised about the fabrics being prone to tearing and how expensive replacing the silk was each time she tore it on the sewing machine. She’d watched the mousey haired designer spend sleepless nights’ hand-stitching the ruching at the bottom of the bodice of each individual dress, and the transitional pleats that would lead into a “poofier skirt”.

Umi wasn’t one for designer lingo, but knew that this was the most excessive project that Kotori had managed to execute.

Consequently, Umi had to make sure she didn’t mess it up by dropping her fan or falling on her face. There was no way she’d be able to live with herself if she flubbed a performance at this point in their careers as school idols. It would be all over for them in a matter of weeks and she was desperate not to ruin it.

The dressing room was filled with hustle and bustle, chatter between each member and the surrounding girls managing to drown out any chance of Umi getting coherent thoughts. Behind her, Nico was prattling on about what souvenir she wanted to get for Cocoa but she was worried that Kotaro would steal it.

In that moment, Umi really didn’t care.

Most of the girls seemed to be excited instead of nervous, stretching their legs and trying not to jump up and down too excessively lest they pull a muscle or twist an ankle in those shoes with just a few more moments until they would go on.

Umi’s skin was clammy, she was unsure how sweaty she was, but felt a sudden urge to bathe in a vat of deodorant due to a crippling fear of having BO. Even though she’s attempted several tactical whiffs of her underarms while stretching and had been satisfied that the only thing that could be smelt was the excessive amount of strawberry body lotion she had put on in preparation for this show.

“Muse, you’re on in five!” the attendant said from outside the dressing room, a phrase Nozomi repeated in Japanese with little issue.

The girls seemed to nod and busy themselves with the last intricate details of their warmups and pre-show rituals. In the far corner of the room, Maki was mediating, with a cushion resting on her head and one earphone playing classical symphonies to her.

Across the dressing room from her, stood Honoka, beaming with sparkling eyes. She glanced from the door to the clock. The seconds before they’d be ushered to perform were dissipating faster than Umi could fathom, and the bile rising in her throat was scaring her more than she felt necessary. She swallowed, hard, reaching for a glass of water, and eased herself down from the chair she had sat upon.

“C’mon guys, hands in!” she’d encouraged.

Umi’s stomach gurgled in displeasure as she rose to her feet and slunk toward the group, each girl putting their hands into the circle in the order in which they joined Muse, counting down as they went.

“Muuuuse! Music Start!” the group had exclaimed, but Umi’s heart was certainly not in it.

Kotori pressed her lips into a fine line as she approached her girlfriend, snaking an arm around her shoulders, “Umi-chan, are you okay?”

Umi nodded but her face said otherwise; contorted into an expression of pure disgust as she clutched her stomach.

“I don’t wanna go on, Kotori-chan.”

“That’s okay, Umi-chan. I’m scared too,” she said, giving her a squeeze, “But it’ll be worth it, right? Just think about it! Wouldn’t you regret not going on and doing the show because you were scared.”

Umi nodded.

“Exactly! Don’t worry Umi-chan,” Kotori said, leaning in and kissing her girlfriend on the slightly clammy forehead, “We’re going to be amazing!”


End file.
